My Perfect Little World
by LuvvyDuck
Summary: My 2nd 'Twilight Zone' crossover since 'Night of Judgment'. Steelbeak goes to what certainly LOOKS like Heaven...some violence, but otherwise family friendly. Submitted Halloween 2004, but now revised and updated.


My Perfect Little World_  
A Darkwing Duck Fanfic_

by E. Grimes

Inspired and adapted from a _Twilight Zone_ episode "A Nice Place to Visit"

All _Darkwing Duck_ characters © by Disney. _The Twilight Zone_ © by CBS and Cayuga Productions.  
This story and all other characters © by yours truly. Please don't use or link this story w/o my permission.

AUTHOR'S NOTE:  
For those of you who've read "Night of Judgment", this will be my _second_ "Twilight  
Zone" crossover. I promise not to make a regular habit of this kind of thing; but this was  
something I wanted to do for Halloween---besides, the chance to freak y'all out again  
was just too danged good to pass up. So grab some Halloween candy, turn off all the  
lights and enjoy! (My sincerest apologies to all you Steelbeak fans, by the way...)

**Update (10/7/2006):  
**I recently saw some glitches in this and _Night of Judgment_ that I wasn't too crazy about,  
and being the eternal perfectionist I finally decided to fix them. I am hoping to do one  
more TZ crossover for this Halloween, and I promise it'll be the last one...unless you  
_really_ want another one!

* * *

"Eh, guys, will yas hurry up?" snapped the tall, well-dressed rooster. "Times a-wastin'---we gotta get all  
dem jewels outta 'ere b'fore dat Darkwing Duck shows up!" 

The Eggmen sighed. They were moving as fast as they could to do their boss' bidding.

As usual, FOWL was demanding more money; since more money for FOWL meant a better standard of  
living for its Chief Agent, Steelbeak, he resorted to one of his usual devious solutions and made a midnight  
foray on St. Canard Museum. After knocking out the guards and tying them up, Steely and his Eggmen  
cheerfully helped themselves to the most rare and expensive gems on exhibit.

"Yeah, get dat big fat diamon' over dere!" Steelbeak ordered. "Dat t'ing's gotta be wort' _zillions_ o' bucks!"

Then suddenly, a cloud of dark blue smoke appeared to gum up the works.

"I am the Terror That Flaps in the Night!" boomed a familiar voice. "I am the Thorn in the Foot of Crime!  
I am---"

"DORKwinnnnnng DUNCE!" mocked Steelbeak, as his henchmen laughed.

"Hey!" Darkwing snapped indignantly. "You just ruined my dramatic entrance, Metal Mouth---and that's  
_one_ more crime you'll answer for!"

"Yeah, right," replied the FOWL agent, rolling his eyes. "Oh, boys? Time ta kick some butt!"

As Darkwing found himself fighting off a pack of Eggmen, Steelbeak scooped up as many jewels as he  
could and ran for it.

"Catch me if yas can, Cape Boy!" he called back. Darkwing managed to Quack Fu kick his way  
through the Eggmen and ran after him.

"You won't get away, you felonious FOWL fiend!" he swore. "The scales of Justice will soon  
weigh in my favor!"

The rooster's only comment was a razzberry and an obscene gesture as he continued to flee.  
Meanwhile, however, the Eggmen had dashed off in a different direction with their guns raised.  
It occurred to them that Steelbeak might possibly lead Darkwing right into their path and they  
could gun down the hero.

They stationed themselves outside the exit, weapons at the ready. Hearing the two coming  
closer, the head Eggman told the others:

"Here they come. The minute you see Darkwing, start firin' at him!"

Trying not to be noticed, they didn't see exactly who was heading their way, nor that Darkwing had  
caught up to Steelbeak and the two men began to struggle. Steely finally backhanded Darkwing, then  
roughly shoved him against the doorway. Seeing a flash of purple, the Eggmen tensed and prepared to  
fire any moment...

"Ehehehehe! I'm just too freakin' smart fuh yas, Dipwing!" Steelbeak said gleefully as he began to make  
a mad dash for the exit; but Darkwing fell directly in his path and the FOWL agent tripped across him---  
just as the Eggmen began shooting.

Steelbeak let out a harsh cry of surprise and pain as the bullets struck him. Seeing their mistake too  
late, the Eggmen quickly stopped shooting and rushed over to their wounded leader.

"What'd ya go an' do _dat_ fuh?" he groaned, as he clutched his bleeding chest and stared up at his  
men in disbelief.

"We're sorry, Boss!" the head Eggman blubbered. "We thought you was Darkwing!"

"T'anks a lot..." the agent grunted, "ya buncha morons..." With a last convulsed gasp and a rattling  
sigh, Steelbeak fell back and was still.

The Eggmen glanced at each other in fear and dismay. High Command would surely have their heads  
for this.

"Let's get outta here, guys!" the head Eggman said to his fellows.

They nodded and scattered in various directions, just as Darkwing tottered out the exit and over to  
the dead FOWL agent. The caped hero sighed heavily as he glanced down at his fallen enemy.

"They always have to learn the hard way, don't they?" he muttered, shaking his head.

But it wasn't really over for Chief Agent Steelbeak. It was only the beginning...

* * *

"Steelbeak? Mr. Steelbeak? Won't you come with me now, sir?" 

Steelbeak had lain quite still on the cold pavement where he had fallen; but suddenly, at the sound of the  
voice, his eyelids fluttered and slowly began to open.

"What da..." he mumbled groggily. He could have sworn he'd heard someone talking to him. In fact, he _had._

"Mr. Steelbeak?" the voice repeated. "Shall I help you up?"

"Eh?" Steelbeak raised his head and saw a short and slender gentleman in a crisp white suit standing close  
by him, smiling quite pleasantly as he bent over the rooster and took his hand.

"Let me help you, Mr. Steelbeak. They're always like this when they first arrive here."

"They...who...? Who are ya?" the FOWL agent said wearily as he allowed his visitor to  
raise him to his feet.

"You can call me Max. I'm what you might call your _guide."_

Steelbeak gave an uneasy chuckle. "Yeah...well, I need a guide like I need a hole in da head, pal."  
He wavered dizzily but caught himself. "Oh geezaloo, what's wrong wit' me?"

Max patted the agent's back. "There, there now, Mr. Steelbeak. You had some rather unpleasant  
business earlier today, but you'll be fine in no time."

"Hey---how do you know who I am, anyway?" snapped the rooster.

"Why, it's my job to know everything about you!" replied Max. "For instance, I know your family  
came from Italy, that you're the Chief Agent of the Fiendish Organization for World Larceny---  
more commonly known as FOWL---and, among other things, that you're very fond of pretty women  
and extravagant food and wine."

Steelbeak narrowed his eyes suspiciously. "Say, you ain't no SHUSH agent, are yas?"

The gentleman laughed. "Why, certainly not! I told you, I'm your guide. Now, if you're feeling  
better, sir, follow me, please."

"Follow you---where?"

"Why, to your new quarters! You'll have a hot shower, some nice clean clothes and a fine  
meal. If you also wish, I can arrange some entertainment for you---even some company  
of the female persuasion, perhaps?"

"Uh...right." Steelbeak was still dubious and confused, but followed Max anyway, anxious  
as he was to leave the scene of his 'accident'.

* * *

When they had walked through town for a short time, Max led him to an expensive and fabulous  
penthouse. 

"Dis place is _mine?"_ Steelbeak asked, flabbergasted.

"Certainly!" Max pointed to the front door, where Steely's name was inscribed in elaborate gold  
letters, then handed Steelbeak the key with a grin that was far too cheesy for the rooster's peace  
of mind.

But Steelbeak's irritation quickly faded when he stepped inside. The penthouse made the condo  
FOWL had last supplied him look like a shack. The agent walked around gaping and blinking at  
its rich interior and high-tech conveniences; itt was far better than any resort he had ever visited.  
Among other things, there was a well-stocked bar and a gold-plated refrigerator filled with all of  
Steely's favorite treats---even Dom Perignon champagne and beluga caviar.

"Eh, am I dreamin' er _what?"_ he exclaimed in delight as he followed his guide upstairs to an equally  
decadent master bedroom. Its adjoining bathroom was lined with black and gold marble and so was  
its large shower, with its massage-heads and various kinds of scented soap.

"While you have your bath, I'll pick out a nice outfit for you, sir," Max offered, opening a huge walk-in  
closet filled with Armani suits.

"Wow---dis is gettin' bedder an' bedder!" Steelbeak said, quickly removing his bloodstained clothing  
and stepping into the shower. After a long and enjoyable hot bath, he put on a purple velvet robe and  
stepped out---to find, to his mild disgust, that Max had selected a navy pinstriped suit for him.

"I don't wear nuttin' like _dat!"_ he complained. "What do I look like, a _hood?"_

"But sir," explained Max, looking confused, "I was told that this is your preferred manner of dress."

"Told---by _who?"_ Steely asked warily. "Yer boss, I take it?"

"Why, yes."

"An' who is dis guy? Ya workin' fuh High Command, too?"

"Oh, certainly not! This is someone _much_ more important than your former employers---and, I might  
add, with considerably more influence," Max said, grinning proudly.

Steelbeak blinked. He hadn't thought there was _anyone_ to top High Command, so this was interesting  
news indeed. "Okay, I ain't gonna argue right now. So, when do I get ta meet dis guy, yer boss?"

Max looked somewhat embarrassed. "I really couldn't say, Mr. Steelbeak. But do feel free to pick  
out something more appropriate for yourself while I see about your dinner."

Selecting a black sharkskin suit, a black silk shirt and a blue silk tie, Steely put them on and admired  
himself in a brass-lined mirror. "Eh, I gotta say dis---dat guy got great taste in t'reads."

He walked downstairs and found Max setting up a splendid meal for him in the dining room. Now  
Steelbeak was _sure_ he was dreaming as he gawked at the food.

"You look very handsome, sir!" Max beamed as he placed some crisp potatoes next to an immensely  
thick filet mignon and poured a glass of Chianti.

"T'anks. An' dat grub yer dishin' out dere don't look half bad either!" replied Steely, eagerly sitting down  
and tucking a napkin down his collar. He sliced off a good-sized chunk of beef and started to raise it to  
his beak, but stopped with a suspicious frown.

This was just too good to be true.There _had_ to be a catch...maybe even a _fatal_ one.

"Is everything all right, sir?"

Glaring at Max, Steelbeak held out the piece of meat. "Ah, nope, babe. _You_ eat it."

Max looked quite bewildered. "But I can't, sir---I don't think I've eaten in over 500 years."

"Ah-hah. Sometin' _wrong_ wit' it?" Steelbeak suggested with a half-smirk---deciding to ignore the  
'500 years' remark but guessing now that Max was crazy.

"Why no, sir. That's a very choice cut of beef, in fact---"

"Den _eat_ it, Shorty!"

"But I _can't _eat, I've forgotten how!" Max protested mildly.

"Right!" Steely retorted. He jumped up from the table and tore off his napkin, then whipped out  
his .44 Magnum and aimed it straight for the gentleman's heart.

"So dat's da game yer boss is playin' wit' me, hah? A swell pad, a hot bath , fancy suits---an'  
den _poison? _Well, dat's real smart o' youse, Shorty---but it ain't smart enough!"

He fired several rounds at Max---surely enough to kill any man. But to his astonishment, his intended  
victim stood calmly before him, quite untouched by the bullets.

"Oh, yeah---gotta bullet-proof vest on yas, eh Maxie?" Steelbeak snarled. "Well, let's see if ya gotta  
bullet-proof _head _ta match!"

"Now, Mr. Steelbeak, enough of this nonsense," Max declared pleasantly as a volley of bullets passed  
harmlessly through his head. Steelbeak's metal jaw dropped.

"I couldn'ta missed---I don't _nevah_ miss at dat range!" He aimed at his wineglass and fired; instantly  
it shattered. Obviously, the gun hadn't been filled with blanks. So what was the deal here?

"Dis is weird. Just weird, babe..." Trembling, Steely sank down in an easy chair, and grabbed a cold  
martini from a small table beside it. But wait---_that_ hadn't been there a minute before.

"What's goin' on?" blurted Steelbeak. "What kinda place _is _dis?"

Max laughed lightly. "Don't you remember what you said earlier, Mr. Steelbeak---that you needed  
me like a hole in the head? Well, the truth is: you _had_ a hole in your head. In fact, you had holes all  
over you. _Bullet_ holes."

_Oh yeah...my own dumb Eggmen shot da crap outta me,_ Steelbeak remembered dully. "Ya mean...  
I'm _dead?"_

Max nodded. "As dead as any doornail, my friend."

The rooster looked around, finally beginning to understand. "Den...dis place has gotta be _Heaven_, right?  
An' you, Shorty---yer me _guardian angel, _er somet'in' like dat?"

"Oh, _something_ like that," replied the guide with another laugh. "And you can have anything you want  
here, Mr. Steelbeak---_anything_ at all!"

So _that_ was it---the penthouse, the clothes, the food---it was just one perfect little world. Of course!  
It _had_ to be Heaven. He never thought he'd actually _make_ it there, but what the hey...relieved and over-  
joyed, the metal-mouthed FOWL agent whooped and jumped in the air.

"Anyt'ing I want, hah, Shorty?" he suggested. "Okay, lessee---I wanna a whole buncha big diamonds,  
see? An' a really hot-lookin' babe. I mean, got nice lookin' gams an' all dat, ya know what I'm talkin'  
'bout?" He stared expectantly at his guide. "So...how 'bout it, hah?"

"Well, as for the diamonds," answered Max, pointing to a drawer on the inn table, "look in there."

Needing no further prompting, Steelbeak yanked out the drawer to find it filled to bursting with large,  
sparkling diamonds. "Oh, man...but, ah...what about...ya know...?"

With a knowing smile, Max nodded toward a huge entertainment center in the corner. Instantly, a stereo  
turned on and joyful merengue music filled the room. Steelbeak listened, entranced, then felt a soft and  
fragrant hand touch his shoulder. He turned to find a dazzlingly beautiful she-duck with long blonde hair  
and a slinky black dress gazing into his eyes. Smiling sweetly, she locked her soft arms around the FOWL  
agent and kissed him.

"Now I _know_ I'm in Heaven!" Steelbeak yelped deliriously, as he grabbed the girl and danced around  
with her.

"Will there be anything else, sir?" Max called above the music.

"I'm okay f' now, Shorty, but stan' by anyway!" the rooster replied, his eyes not leaving the girl for a second.  
He thought he had never been so happy in all his life. He continued to dance around and whoop, delighted as  
a child with a roomful of expensive toys...

* * *

And so it went for many days and nights, with every pleasure available to Steelbeak. Everything he'd ever  
wanted, that he'd had to fight for, was his merely for the asking. Even _before_ he asked. This, he was sure,  
was what Heaven was all about. 

There was entertainment of all sorts; there was every type of gambling: slots, roulette, blackjack---games  
where he always, _always_ won. There was all manner of fine food and drink, and for once no hangovers  
or tummy aches to worry about. Unlimited luxury was everywhere. Most of all, there were the women...  
the unspeakably beautiful women who seemed to live only to please Steelbeak. That alone had been _his_  
idea of Heaven...

But in the middle of all this rapture something had been bothering him: _why_ was he here? He couldn't  
remember anything he'd done to make to Heaven._ Don' look a gif' horse in da mout' ,_ he tried to tell  
himself; yet he couldn't shake off that nagging little question in his mind.

One night, after the usual gambling and carousing, Steelbeak wondered about some of his old  
departed cronies from his former criminal days.

"A few of them are here, I believe," Max replied with a grin.

"Eh! Round 'em all up, we'll _really_ 'ave a ball here!" Steelbeak said happily.

"I'm afraid that can't be done, sir," was the apologetic answer.

"But...dey made it here, din't dey?" the rooster asked in disappointment.

"Oh, that's not it, sir," Max told him. "You see, this particular place is your own  
private domain. Everything here is for _you_ alone."

Steelbeak gaped around him. "You mean...da girls an' everyt'ing, dey're like props er  
somet'in?"

The guide nodded.

Steely shook his head. But now was the time to bring up the same question that had nagged  
him constantly ever since he'd arrived.

"What did I do ta get up _here?"_ he asked. "I always t'ought dis place was fer, like, schoolteachahs  
an' lil' ol' ladies an' like dat 'ere...even some'a dem SHUSH agents."

Max laughed heartily. "Oh, but we have people from all walks of life here."

"Kay. But where d' I go ta fin' out dis stuff?"

"Well, there is a Hall of Records up the way," the guide suggested. "Would you like me to take you  
there?"

"Yeah. I just gotta know, dat's all," answered Steelbeak.

They went to a huge white building not far from the penthouse; inside were rows upon rows of filing  
cabinets. Max explained that they held the records of every soul that had arrived there from the dawn  
of Time.

"Here's your file, Mr. Steelbeak!" he said with his usual smile as he pulled out a gold-trimmed folder  
with the rooster's name.

"Okay, lessee..." Steelbeak's gaped curiously at his file, anxious to see what good works he might  
possibly have done. He hadn't recalled any, and what he read so far didn't seem to help.

_"Steelbeak. Age'a ten: killed neighbor's cat._ Well hey, dat t'ing scratched me!" he insisted, then  
continued reading. _"Age 'a twelve: started street gang, Da Holy Terrors." _He laughed. "Oh, yeah,  
I r'membah dem guys...we had a lotta fun stealin' purses an' stuff! Ah-hah..._Age'a fifteen: broke inta  
coin shop an' gunned down da ownah...Age 'a mid-twenties, joined da Fiendish Org'nization Fa  
Worl' Lahceny, a.k.a. FOWL..."_ His eyes narrowed as he read further on. Nothing in his life history  
had seemed to indicate that he'd earned a trip to Heaven, and it wasn't looking any prettier.

"Eh, what _is _all dis?" he demanded at last.

"It's your record, Mr. Steelbeak," Max explained calmly.

"But _dis _can't be right!" Steelbeak said, shaking his head as he threw the file into the cabinet. "I mean,  
it don't say I done _ennyt'ing _good ta get up here. So what gives?"

Max only shrugged.

"Well...if it don't bodder Da Man Upstairs, it ain't gonna bodder _me," _the rooster said pleasantly as  
he began to walk away.

"And what will you be doing now, Mr. Steelbeak?" questioned his guide.

Steelbeak frowned---for the first time in days, he was getting uncomfortable with his new surroundings.  
"I dunno...play da slots, watch TV an' eat caviar...hang out wit' da girls...? I...I just dunno..."

"Well if you need me for anything, Mr. Steelbeak, just pick up the phone and dial M-A-X. All right,  
sir?"

The rooster nodded, and as he walked out he glanced back to see Max vanish into thin air.

"Geez...I keep f'gettin' he's an angel," Steely muttered.

* * *

But after that day, things in Steelbeak's world began to change. Everything he had so thoroughly  
enjoyed before became slowly dull and even depressing. He simply couldn't understand why; his  
religious beliefs were slim to none, but what little he understood about Heaven was that people  
up there were supposed to be _happy_. Like, _forever. _But he was quickly getting weary of it all. 

A slot machine would spill out hundreds of gold coins and he would walk away from them as  
if they were cockroaches. The champagne and caviar might as well have been flat ginger-ale  
and fish eyeballs. To his dismay, even the girls were getting on his nerves...

"You win again, Steely baby!" squealed one of his dates after a card game ended in a royal  
flush---as usual, for Steelbeak.

"Yeah," he replied sourly. "That's all I ever do in dis place is _win_---an' I'm gettin' fed up wit'  
it!"

"Oh, poor baby. Is there...anything else I can do for you, Steel darling?" purred the blonde,  
fluttering her long eyelashes and smiling invitingly at him. To his own surprise, the rooster  
glared at her in disgust.

"Yeah---ya girls c'n get outta here!" he snapped, chasing her and the others out of his room.  
"Come on', I'm sick ta deat' o' lookin' at ya, ya stupid broads!" He slammed the door behind  
them. "Who needs ya?"

Sighing heavily, he paced around his living room until he spotted his gold French phone. He  
picked it up and dialed M-A-X.

"Yes, Mr. Steelbeak?" said the guide's voice right behind him. Steelbeak nearly jumped out  
of his skin.

_"Don't do dat!"_ he yelped.

"Anything you say, Mr. Steelbeak---"

" 'Ennyt'ing ya say, Mistah Steelbeak' !" mimicked the FOWL agent angrily.

"Is there anything wrong, sir?" Max asked in concern.

"Ah, naw...nuttin's wrong, everyt'ing's just hunky-dorey!" Steely spat in a nasty voice. "I'm bored,  
Shorty---bored, bored, _bored!"_

"But---everything you loved on Earth is here, Mr. Steelbeak!" Max insisted, looking quite  
disappointed. "The gambling, the women...I thought you always _enjoyed_ all that!"

"I do---or I _did," _Steelbeak replied, equally surprised at his situation. "But I like ta take a  
_chance_ once in awhile, ya know? Gamblin' ain't no fun if ya win all da time. An' even da girls---  
I nevah t'ought I'd get tired a' _beaut'ful girls! _See, Maxie---" he sat his guide down and leaned  
close. "I don't expect no _angel_ ta unnerstan' dis, see...but makin' it wit' da ladies, it don't mean  
dat much if it's all planned fuh yas ahead o' time, see?"

Max nodded, chuckling. "I think I know what's wrong, sir: you miss your old activities on Earth,  
don't you? Your old 'career' and all..."

Steelbeak grinned at the suggestion. "Eh...yeah, I _do! _Knockin' off banks, blowin' up chem'cal  
plants, givin' SHUSH an' Darkwing Duck a bad time...y'know, all dat fun stuff."

"Well, then," Max said amiably, "I think we can arrange something. Perhaps a bank heist, or a hostage  
standoff?"

"A bank heist'll woik, t'anks. But now, Maxie," Steelbeak asked excitedly, "is dere enny chance---_enny_  
at all---dat I could get _nabbed by da cops?"_

"Why yes---if you like..."

The rooster sighed and rolled his eyes. "You just _don't_ get it, do yas, Shorty? It wouldn't be da same---  
I'd _know_ about it, see? Where's da risk in dat? Just fuggedaboudit, okay?" With a disgusted glance  
around his penthouse, he went on: "I t'ink dere's been a mistake, see? I just don't t'ink I belong 'ere."

Max laughed. "Oh, nonsense! Of _course_ you belong here, Mr. Steelbeak---there _is_ no mistake."

Steely shook his head. "Dere's _gotta_ be, Maxie. If I stay in dis place one more day, I'm just gonna  
go _postal_, see?" He stood up and sighed in resignation. "I don' b'long in Heaven, Maxie. Tell yer  
guy up dere 'e might as well sen' me ta _Hell."_

To Steelbeak's surprise, the normally gentle and pleasant Max smirked and burst out with scornful  
and indignant laughter.

"What!" asked the FOWL agent, blinking.

_"Heaven!" _the guide snorted. "Just what made you think _you_ were in _Heaven,_ Mr. Steelbeak? _  
This IS Hell!"_

Steelbeak stared unbelievingly into Max's contemptful glare; then he rushed to his entrance only  
to find the door locked tight.

_"Lemme out!"_ he screamed, pounding on it desperately. "Please, sumbuddy, lemme outta here!"

And as he continued screaming and pounding to no avail, Steelbeak could hear Max's demonic  
laughter behind him...

He had been given everything he had ever wanted--his own perfect little world. And now he  
would have to live with it..._forever.  
_

THE END  
---------------------------------------------------------  
Happy Halloween, boys and girls...be good! Mwahahahahaaaaaa...


End file.
